Lost
by xShadow0x
Summary: Quinn was lost. She was floundering, confused, in a sea of self-hatred and loathing. In the midst of it all was one girl, a girl who has been stuck in her head since they met all those years ago. Can she pull Quinn out of the depths she has descended to? Pretty AU Faberry. May seem pretty similar to the Kurtofsky storyline. Angsty. Rated T because sometimes I cuss like a sailor.
1. Prologue

"Go on now, honey. Go ahead and run around a bit."

The slightly effeminate man set his daughter down gently on the ground from where she had been sitting on his knee. The little girl stood up and dusted off her miniature navy-blue-with-white-polka-dots dress rather primly. She stooped a little and straightened her white knee-high socks and brown penny loafers, before breaking into a broad grin and turning towards the sea of lush grass that extended for acres in front of her. Clumps of trees here and there broke the green expanse, and the foot-high natural carpet swayed gently in the breeze.

This was one of the only decent parks in Lima, Ohio, but it, too was starting to fall into disarray. It had been forever since someone had cut the grass or trimmed the other vegetation, and there were only two benches, on opposite sides of the giant field. Few people actually came here anymore, because of how it had progressively gotten worse. At the moment, the Berry's figured that they were the only ones out here.

The little girl started running freely through the grass, breathing in the fresh spring air with gusto. She glanced back over her shoulder towards her parents once, before stretching out her arms and reveling in her nature-infused world. She started running again, as fast as her legs would take her. Dark brown hair streamed behind her, and her dress flapped in the breeze. She thought, just for a moment, she could close her eyes and-

WHAM.

The young girl sat up from being sprawled on the ground, checking to make sure that there was no dirt anywhere on her person. After ensuring the cleanliness of her clothing, she looked around to find the offending object that caused her to trip. To her surprise, there was a strange sight directly next to her: a pair of small feet sticking up out of the grass. As she started crawling around the pair of feet, she discovered that there was actually a person attached to them! _A really pretty person_, she thought without any qualms over her description. And so, being the honest, stubborn, forward girl she was; she voiced this sentiment to the owner of the pair of feet she had just discovered.

"Uhhhh…." She received in response, before the speaker let out a shy, "You're pretty, too."

"Why, thank you! My Daddy always says that when you meet someone new, you need to compliment them on something. That way, you both start off with good impressions of each other. Good impressions are very important. Sometimes, you only have one chance to get someone to like you, and you don't want to mess that up, right?"

"Erm…"

"My Daddy also says that it's not a good thing to be shy when you first meet someone. It tells people that you aren't confident in yourself. But I think that it's perfectly all right that you're shy. After all, it must be kind of strange to have someone trip over you. Why were you lying in the grass?"

At this point, the other person had sat up as well, crossing her legs to stare at the ranting brunette girl. As wide brown eyes gazed at her expectantly, the other girl started fiddling with her hands in her lap.

"It felt like home," she said softly, not knowing what exactly was happening.

"I completely understand what you mean! There are some places where you just _know_ you belong, and, once there, you just want to bask in it all day…"

The blonde girl cocked her head delicately, considering the spectacle in front of her. She had been minding her own business, lying in the meadow and listening to the birds chirp in the trees, when suddenly there was something that hit her foot and a loud thud next to her. She had remained perfectly still, trying to avoid whatever or whoever it was. And then, out of the blue, popped this other little girl, with rich, dark brown hair and a voice that couldn't be turned off. She watched, quietly, as the other girl continued to talk. She was mesmerized, enchanted by how the light reflected off her hair, giving her an angelic golden halo. Her eyes drifted over the girl's beautiful features, travelling over smooth, caramel skin practically _glowing_ with how excited the girl was.

"… and I hope that when I find-" The brunette stopped and drew in a little breath, before asking curiously, "Why are you staring at me?"

"Because you're interesting." The usually subdued blonde 6-year old clapped both hands to her mouth, shocked that she had let so many stray thoughts slip out already.

"You're interesting too! What's your name?"

Those big, brown eyes started looking intensely at the shy girl again, and she stuttered out her response.

"Q-quinn."

"That's a really pretty name! I'm Rachel. Rachel Barbra Berry," she said with a proud grin. "My daddies named me after a Broadway legend and a character from _Friends_." She stuck her hand out towards Quinn, still grinning broadly. "Nice to meet you!"

"Nicetomeetyoutoo," Quinn mumbled, looking down and shaking the brunette's hand. She was shy, but she would at least retain her manners. That was one thing her parents had constantly drilled into her: manners – always. "Wait," she said, Rachel's words having sunk into her brain, "you have more than one dad?"

Rachel nodded, her smile never faltering.

"I have two daddies, just like most people have a daddy and a mommy. And they love each other and me very much!"

"Oh," Quinn said, with a nod of her head. She thought that a family like this sounded perfectly all right as long as everyone loved each other.

"So, Quinn…" Rachel started talking again, and Quinn gazed at her while they conversed.

After an hour or two of interacting in this manner, the girls were smiling frequently at each other, and giggling at common interests or funny coincidences that they shared. Suddenly, Quinn glanced at the small silver watch bracelet that was fastened around her wrist.

"I should probably be going back now… My Dad said that I can't be gone for very long."

"Okay!" Rachel said, standing up and checking her dress again for any dirt or stray grass. Quinn stood up as well, turning back into her shy and bashful self. "I really liked talking to you, Quinn. I hope that we can meet again sometime!"

"Yeah, that sounds really good…" The blonde girl mumbled, staring at the ground. A movement in her peripheral vision caused her to look up and to the side, so that her mouth was where her cheek had been previously. A sudden peck on the lips caught Quinn by surprise, and her eyes widened in surprise. A blush crept over her face, and she looked down at the ground once again.

"Silly!" Rachel exclaimed, pulling her head away. "You turned your head! Well, I'll see you around, Quinn! Bye!" The brunette girl started skipping away, and Quinn waved distractedly after her.

She then turned and ran all the way back across the park, back to the bench where her mother and father were.

"Mommy, mommy! I got a new friend!"

"Oh really?" The older, blonde woman said with a warm smile. "And what was your new friend's name?"

"Rachel," Quinn recalled, grinning. "Rachel Barbra Berry."

Suddenly, her father gained interest in the conversation between mother and daughter, and his jaw hardened.

"Rachel Berry, you say?"

"Yeah!" The little girl exclaimed, nodding rapidly and starting to ramble. "And she gave me a kiss too! She meant for it to be on the cheek, but then I got startled and turned my head and it ended up on my lips, but she was really nice, and she talked a lot, but-"

Quinn suddenly stopped talking, as a sharp pain shot through her face. She looked up to see her father standing over her, his face discolored and his breath coming in short bursts. The intelligent young child figured out within moments that her father had slapped her, and tears sprung to her eyes.

"Daddy?" She whimpered, holding her reddened cheek.

"You will _never_," he growled in a dangerously low voice, "_ever_ associate with that girl again. Their _family_," he spat the word as if it was a poison, "is a crime against nature. And she was trying to convert you to their sinful ways. You will have disgraced your family _immensely_ if you ever act as an equal to her. Do you understand me?"

The little girl nodded, fat tears now freely falling down her cheeks. She didn't think that Rachel's family could be a crime against nature, like her Dad said. They all loved each other, so what did it matter that there were two daddies? But this was her Dad, and he was the one that knew what was right and wrong, right? So maybe she was wrong; maybe Rachel was supposed to be avoided.

Quinn was sad to be giving up her new friend, but she decided that family was more important than other little girls she met in the park.

In her mind, that day, Rachel Barbra Berry became the enemy.

**A/N: Hey out there to anyone reading this! I know that I have a main story that I should be updating, but (as usual) an idea popped in my head and wouldn't leave. Unlike my last three endeavors, this will be a chapter story. This is the prologue to it (yay cute kiddie Faberry!) and the first chapter will probably be up really soon (today or tomorrow). This story is pretty AU: Quinn was never Lucy (Lucy is her middle name, though), and the plot will most likely not be canon. Most, if not all of the characters from canon will be there, with same characterization. Major plot events like the formation of Glee club will be the same. It will probably include some other plot events from canon, but not all, and not necessarily in the same order. This will start halfway through freshman year. Quinn may or may not get pregnant. THIS STORY WILL BE MUCH LIKE THE KURT/KAROFSKY STORYLINE IN CANON. Except tweaked a bit. Or a lot. I take liberties on what I do with the plot. Pleaaaaaaaseeeee read and review! My writing relies heavily on reviews! Peace :)**

**PS: I feel like I'm going to make this one a bit darker than I'll Be There…**

**PPS: To any readers of I'll Be There: I won't be updating for a while (unusual, I know xD) because I'm going to a summer camp and laptops aren't allowed. I'm sorry about that, especially because I left you guys with a cliffhanger. Please don't hate me :))**


	2. No More

Chapter One

High pony… check.

Cheerios uniform… check.

Head Bitch in Charge attitude… check.

I sigh and turn away from the mirror in the corner of my bedroom. This is not who I wanted to be. I didn't want to be the pretty, little, Christian girl that was head cheerleader and dated the quarterback of the football team. I didn't want to make fun of all the "losers" every day, and order showers of frozen flavored corn syrup for them. I didn't want to be the popular one that everyone hated. But most of all, I really, really didn't want to be a bitch.

But I am. And I have to be. So now the line between appearances and reality has blurred into a fuzzy gray area filled with barely-concealed anger and biting retorts.

Sure, it makes it easier to survive at school, given that I'm not one of the people getting slushies thrown in their faces. I suppose it is what every high school student dreams of – to be the top dog at school.

It _does_ work well to always be backed up by the jocks when entering a confrontation with someone. It _is_ interesting to see people's reactions when you can shut them up with a raise of the eyebrow. There _is_ a feeling of pride that comes with being able to part a crowded hall of students like the Red Sea when you walk by.

But at what cost does this come?

I have to be constantly obsessed with my appearance. I have to hurt as many people as possible in order to stay in charge. Everyone hates me.

I hate me.

The pretty, blonde cheerleader parting the crowd again, flanked by her two cronies; all three sneering at anyone with the balls to look them in the eyes.

Yeah, _that's_ pleasant.

I stare straight ahead, trying not to pay attention to the "nerds" and "geeks" cowering against the lockers on either side of us. Santana occasionally spits insults at the people around us, but she is on a mission, and doesn't have the time to dwell on torturing any one in particular. My vision keeps flicking to the Big Gulp cup of purple frozen drink in her hand, and I try to think of a way to steel myself for this situation.

As we near our… _target_, I try to look anywhere but _her_ face. Oh, wait, that didn't work. Her hair and skin were mesmerizing, too. And those legs-

"Sup GayBerry!" I cringe at Santana's use of the insult that I had popularized, and I wait for the sound of the splash hitting. I am not disappointed.

My face morphs into an expression of contempt and condescension. It has been trained to. My disposition remains stony and unwavering; even as I battle internally to ignore the tears rolling from Rachel's corn syrup filled eyes.

"Morning, Sunshine!" I say in a sickly-sweet fake voice. "Hope you enjoyed your facial."

Rachel clenches her teeth and glares at me, but refuses to back down. Her eyes flick around, and she ends up licking her grape-flavored lips before returning her gaze to me. She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, getting most of the purple color off of it. My body betrays me, and I feel a flush of heat start to rise towards my face. I turn around sharply, trying to think of any thoughts to tamp down this reaction.

I suddenly see Brittany's sad eyes staring at me, shining bright blue with disappointment and pity. All other thoughts are pushed away, and a great feeling of shame comes over me. It's not like I _wanted_ to do this! It's not like I gain some sort pleasure from torturing… _her_. I have to. It is my job – my duty. As a daughter, as head cheerleader, as a Christian, as a popular, as myself. I had to do this.

This is what I continue to tell myself as I quickly walk back down the hall again, ignoring the stares. Ignoring the whispers. Ignoring those tear-filled brown eyes. Ignoring those sad blue ones. Ignoring, ignoring, ignoring!

"What's been going on with you, Q?"

"Hm?" I ask, looking up and towards Santana, who is lying next to Brittany on the other side of my bed and looking expectantly towards me to answer her question.

"Why do you seem so upset all the time?"

I scoff, trying to deflect the question.

"Just tired, that's all."

"Bullshit."

"Excuse me?" I ask, turning to face the two fully. Santana looks at me with a lazy, smug expression.

"Bull. Shit. I know what you're like when you're tired. That's not what this is, is it? Nowadays you just seem either mopey or pissed. Not tired."

My mouth falls open a little bit, as I hesitate over whether or not to tell her what's going on in my head. After all, Santana and Brittany are my two best friends; they wouldn't desert me, would they? It's not like I'm actually _doing_ anything wrong. I just feel… weird-

"Hey, did you _see_ Gay Berry's face this morning? SO funny!" The Latina barked out a laugh, and I couldn't stop the words from falling from my lips.

"Don't call her that."

She immediately stopped laughing and sat up, looking at me with a suspicious glare.

"What did you just say?"

"Uh…" I stalled, looking around for an excuse. "Nothing. I didn't say anything."

"No, I'm pretty sure you did. Are you actually sticking up for RuPaul? Since when do _you_ give a shit about that… _thing_?"

"I don't!" I said hurriedly, trying to cover up my slip-up. "I just don't really want to talk about her. Just the thought of something that disgusting is making me nauseated."

No, what makes me nauseated was talking about _her_ like that.

"Whatever you say, Q," Santana says with a scoff. "So whatcha drawing?" She nods towards the sketchbook in my lap.

"Nothing," I mumble, slamming shut the drawing of a girl on stage singing her heart out – and we all know who that is. "Do either of you want anything from the kitchen?" I stand up and turn towards the door, hearing a chorus of "no" from behind me.

Downstairs, I forgo the kitchen and walk outside onto the porch, thoughts cluttering up my brain and threatening to leak out. I lean against the railing and close my eyes, desperately trying to gain control of myself.

It's been getting worse lately. For the last 10 years I've been able to act like I don't care at all about her, except for making her life hell. But it's been slipping away from me. All I've ever had for sure was complete control over myself, my mind, and my lack of emotions. To lose that is… it's terrifying. I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff, and the ground is crumbling beneath me, and there's nothing I can do about it. Soon I'll be tumbling down, down, down, falling to God knows where. That's the scariest part: not knowing what will end up happening. Not knowing what all this will mean. Not knowing how anybody else will react to- never mind.

There are some things that I can't ever acknowledge, not even in my mind. There are some things that are meant to be kept hidden away, meant to be kept secret. There are some things that I would never be accepted for if I told people. There are some things that should be buried. Some urges that should be quelled. Some acts that should be circumvented.

And why, _why_ is it that whenever I start thinking – really _thinking_ – about what I want most in life, _she_ always comes dancing around my mind?

But it doesn't really matter what I want most in life, does it? It never has, and, for the time that I'm stuck in this goddamned small town in Ohio with Bible-thumping parents and closed minds wherever I look, it never will. I would want nothing more than to get out of here and experience the world, be who I want to be, and not have to worry about what everyone else thinks.

That's not happening any time soon, though.

So for now, here I am, staring at the inside of my eyelids, trying to crush my emotions that are rising up from the back of my mind like demons of flame and shadow. My wall that has lasted for a decade is breaking, chipping away slowly but steadily, dark tendrils of temptation poking through the holes and scrabbling for my attention. And behind it all looms a face, shifting and changing between a 6 year old girl and a 16 year old girl, both with the same silky brown hair and bright brown eyes, taunting and prodding at what little resolve I have left.

"Quinn…" A soft voice calls in my mind. So very soft, sweet, and child-like. "Quinn…" The voice changes; still soft, though. It seems older, more mature, more seductive. "Baby, come talk to me. I know you want to…"

I shake my head to no avail. The voice stays, resounding in what seems like the very crevices of my skull.

"Quinn…"

"No, go away," I whisper vehemently, squeezing my eyes shut.

"Quinn," it calls again.

"No, you're not real." Tears threaten to squeeze out of my eyes.

"Quinn!" This voice is sharp and real, and it is closely followed by hands that grab my shoulders and shake me slightly. I open my eyes to see tan skin and hard, almost-black eyes.

"But you're not…" I murmur.

"Real? No, I'm very real," Santana says, staring hard at what must have been a dazed expression on my face. "What's going on, Fabray?"

"Nothing," I say, trying to move out of her grasp.

"Oh, no, you don't get away that easy. That was most _definitely_ not 'nothing'. Spill."

"I told you, Santana, it was nothing. I guess it was just the heat or something."

"It's November!"

"Let me _go_." I gather all of the malice and resentment from the past week and direct it towards Santana in a glare that would make Sue Sylvester proud. The Latina locks eyes with me, and we wait. We wait until I feel helplessness encroaching on the ice daggers focused towards the girl, and it seems like she's never going to back down.

And then she lets go of me like she was burned.

"Fine. Excuse me for caring." She turns away from me and hops down the steps, beckoning for Brittany to follow her. "Come on Britts, it seems that _Quinn_ has some issues to work out."

I watch them walk away, the image of Brittany's sad eyes piercing through me just as they had just hours before. After the two round the bend, I turn and walk through my door, pushing it closed behind me.

"FUCK!" I scream, my head pounding with thoughts and feelings and strange whispers of desires and the steady crumbling away of the ground beneath my feet. My heart leaps into my throat, and I run up the stairs, taking them two at a time. When I get to my bedroom, I start rummaging through the drawers in my desk frantically.

"Where is it, where is it, where _is it_!" I mutter, slamming the last drawer shut and standing in the middle of my room, my hands on my forehead. My eyes search and scan every niche that I can think of. How could I have lost it? I hadn't looked at it in years, but I know that I had kept it all that time. It was safe – where is it?

I couldn't keep it where my parents could find it, or where my friends could find it, so that ruled out anywhere obvious. It probably wasn't anywhere in sight or easily accessible-

"Oh."

I know where it is.

I grab a pair of scissors and open them up so that I'm holding only one blade. I walk over to my bed and lie on my back on the floor, scooting underneath until I can see the bottom slat of the frame. I run the blade through the gap between the two wood pieces making up the slat, and the edge of a piece of paper pokes out the other side of the gap. I grab it quickly and scoot back out. Setting the scissors aside, I sit on my bed and bring my knees up to my chest, holding the paper out in front of me.

It is a picture, taped together, of two little girls sitting in a meadow. One is blonde with green eyes, and she sits with her head cocked to the side staring at the other girl, who is a brunette with sparkling brown eyes. The brunette appears to be talking animatedly, and her company is quite obviously completely enraptured.

I remember the day that I got this picture…

_The doorbell rang at the Fabray residence on a Sunday around midday, which was odd in itself, because they normally never had company around at this time. _

_"Judy!" Russell Fabray called, expecting his wife to answer the door. She didn't answer, and the bell rang again. He stood up from his office chair with a sigh, taking off his reading glasses and pushing aside his paperwork. Stretching a bit, he walked to the door, opening it to reveal a young girl and a man about the same age as Russell. _

_"Hello Mr. Fabray," the girl said with a bright smile. "I was wondering if Quinn was around. My Daddy and I were just going to go get some Italian ice, and we were wondering if she would like to come along."_

_Unbeknownst to her father and the people standing outside the door, Quinn was hiding behind a coat rack further back in the room, peeking out at the (by Fabray standards) sinfully enthusiastic Rachel. _

_"I also wanted to give her this." Rachel held out a small photo to the man, who took it gently between his thumb and forefinger. "It's a picture my Papa took when Quinn and I were talking in the park yesterday. I just wanted to give her a little memento-"_

_Russell took one long look at the picture before ripping it in half. Rachel's eyes widened, and her mouth dropped in astonishment._

_"- b-but-"_

_He ripped it into fourths and squeezed them into his closed fist. _

_"I don't want you associating with my daughter."_

_"Mr. Fabray-" started the man behind Rachel._

_"And I don't want you encouraging her," the stony-faced man said, jabbing a finger at Hiram Berry (for that is who he was) and Rachel in turn._

_Tears started flowing from the small brunette's eyes, and her Daddy put a protective arm around her, pulling her into his body as Russell closed the door._

_The blond man turned to see Quinn standing behind him, her jaw set and teeth gritted to prevent the glistening in her eyes becoming anything more than that. He opened up his fist and let the pieces of the picture fall to the floor._

_"Let this teach you a lesson," he said, before walking back into his study._

_Quinn had half a mind to walk in after him and throw a fit, screaming and crying about how it all wasn't _fair_. But it wouldn't mean anything. She still wouldn't have a friend, and her Daddy would still not budge. Instead, she chose to pick up the scraps of paper on the floor and hold them tightly in her small hand, carrying them up to her bedroom. There, she used scotch tape to put them back together, forming the picture of two girls in a park. She let her tears fall then, and she sniffled and hiccupped until she no could no longer do so. Then she tucked the picture away beneath her pillow and exited the room, preparing again to act like everything was alright. _

The edges of the picture are yellowing a bit, and the tape has come unstuck in a few places, but it's still the same photo. The same one that represented all that I lost, all that I was betrayed by, all that I learned to resent about my life. I felt like that little girl again, vulnerable and afraid. Except now I have 16 years' worth of hatred bottled up. 16 years of hiding, of pretending, of faking everything. I have 16 years of misery and I'm so _fucking_ done with it. Is this what life comes down to? Having to choose between happiness-while-being-lonely or loathing-of-everything-while-being-adored? When I was little, I had all these grand plans for when I became a teenager. I was going to live it up, defy my parents' expectations, do what I wanted to do, and not give a flying fuck about what anyone else thought.

Life's a sadistic bitch, isn't it?

And now I am at the mercy of some _girl_-

No.

No, I will not let myself be pulled under control of her any more.

No, I am going to take my life back.

No, I refuse to care about her any more.

No, she needs to _get the fuck out of my head_.

No, I won't care about her anymore.

I won't care about any of them anymore.

**A/N: I know, I lied, it wasn't tomorrow. I guess I just posted the prologue later than I thought and finished this earlier than I expected. So this is the first real chapter. I've decided to keep the chapters shorter than about 5K words, so that I can work on quality rather than quantity. I swear, I reread this chapter so many times it's not even funny. ****_Anyway_****. Please read and review, tell me if it was good, if it sucked, whatever. I beg of you, (on my knees), pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaase let me know what you think! Okay thanks. Peace out :)**

**PS: I'm still looking for a beta if anyone's interested *nudge nudge wink wink***

**PPS: Yeah, I'm not going to have Quinn get pregnant. That would just add this whole 'nother element that I would have no fucking clue what do do with. Also, I'm personally borderline-phobic about babies, so I would probably fuck up anything I tried to write about Beth. **

**PPPS: I had something that I was gonna say… I forgot it…**

**PPPPS: OH. I REMEMBERED. Okay so I said this in the prologue note, but I really won't be posting much at all in the near future. I'm going to a summer camp where we can't have laptops, and then Ima be on a cruise and shit like that so I might not have time. And I also have a bunch of stories that I do randomly and the main and this one and it's all like WTF so I'm sorry. This is probably the last chapter for this until about July. Maybe later. I mean I might post more PWP in case anyone is interested but that's just cuz I write it on my iPhone and just ****_hormones ya know?_**** Anyway. Overshare. Yeah. Review! *cheesy thumbs up* yup. Cuz ima dork. Bye people.**


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